


The Shortfall

by thenewbacklog



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Overworking, The Magnus Archives Hurt/Comfort Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewbacklog/pseuds/thenewbacklog
Summary: After Melanie agrees to help Martin read statements in ep98, he doesn't take her up on it, and keeps overworking.Melanie sees Martin trying to read yet another statement, and decides enough's enough.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Melanie King
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894885
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	The Shortfall

**Author's Note:**

> Wednesday's H/C Week fic: Overwhelmed
> 
> Working title: Melanie King vs. Exploitative Working Environments
> 
> I love that, unless someone's being hostile to her, Melanie's default in a new situation is to try and make friends, and help and protect those friends. She's prickly, but she really cares.
> 
> I also love that scene in ep98 where Melanie comes in after Martin's done with the statement, Martin lays out the whole miserable "Elias wants them to keep reading statements while Jon's gone, and Tim won't do it, so it's just Martin reading them alone" situation, and Melanie agrees to share the load with Martin. 
> 
> (And it all happens right before she tries to poison Elias, so it reads like this conversation strengthened her resolve to do it. Which delights me.)
> 
> Anyway, this fic came out of that.

Martin had been staring at the same folder for half an hour, like he hoped it would disappear if he wished hard enough. At first, Melanie thought it was research, but he looked sad, and tired, which… wasn’t really surprising. But he looked worse than usual, like he was bracing himself for something.

Then Martin winced, sat up straighter, and hit a button on the tape recorder.

So… definitely not research. Great. He was reading another statement, one of the draining ones that wouldn't record to a laptop. He'd _asked_ her to read some, why the hell wasn't he...

Melanie grimaced. When she read that statement for Tim, she fell asleep when she got home and didn't wake up until late the next afternoon. She’d been lucky it was a weekend (she thought, anyway, until she found out no one could fire her and she could have slept through a workday instead).

And that was just one statement. She didn’t know how many Martin had read, but it was definitely a lot.

He never looked good, exactly, he always looked like he could do with about four more hours of sleep than he usually got. But that time last week, his face had been gray and clammy, and he’d looked so sad, like he was resigned to just… reading statements forever, on his own, with as much fake cheerfulness as possible.

Fucking Elias. She understood why Tim wouldn’t want to record statements, but it wasn’t Martin’s job to do them all by himself. He actually asked her for help. She didn’t know Martin well, but he didn’t strike her as the type to do that unless he was really desperate.

When they’d gone out for drinks, she spent the whole walk over keeping an eye on him in case he collapsed.

Statements just… did that to you.

When they finally met up with Basira, she noticed something was off, and shot glances at Martin, then at Melanie, until Martin was out of earshot long enough that Melanie could finally explain.  
  
She left out the part about poisoning Elias, though. Basira would probably try to stop her, but there was no way killing Elias would actually kill everyone. It was too convenient. It had to be some kind of trick to get them to, to sit down and shut up and take whatever Elias threw at them. (Like asking Martin to do weeks’ worth of Jon’s work and keep up with his own, and Elias had to know what recording statements did to you. He wouldn’t be so smug about it otherwise.)

Melanie sighed, and got up. If Martin wasn’t going to share the statements with her, she’d do it for him, before he made himself sick. Or… sicker, anyway.

* * *

Martin took a deep breath, and let it out. “O… kay. Statement of…”

He paused the recorder, and scrubbed his hands over his face. Just… a million statements to go. Jon couldn’t be back soon enough.

He’d tried fitting statements in around his regular work at first, but with how long Jon had been gone, Elias said someone had to pick up the slack. They were behind, after all.

(Behind _what_ , Martin didn’t know, it wasn’t like anyone would ever listen to the statements. Where was the Institute getting all these tapes, anyway? No one ever ordered any new ones, they just… showed up. And if the tapes were vintage, they probably wouldn’t last much longer, it wasn’t like the Archives were ideal conditions. They got attacked too often for that.)

So he came in early or stayed late, and recorded more and more often, mostly fake statements, but some of them were real. He thought they’d get easier to read, at some point, but…

He didn’t know how Jon did it, all this time. Reading about the worst moments in people’s lives, getting into their heads. _Being_ them, watching them for half an hour at a time while something else watched him, until he was exhausted and shaking and couldn’t tell where they ended and he began. And the _nightmares_.

It wasn’t like Tim was going to help, and Basira had her own research and was a hostage anyway, so it didn’t seem fair to ask. Melanie said she’d read some when he asked, but she looked busy, and she had plans tomorrow.

He didn’t _want_ to record today, but what choice did he have? At least he wouldn’t be sleeping through anything but another Saturday alone in his flat.

Oh, well.

Martin pressed the record button again, then paused it when he heard footsteps approach his desk. He looked up, and saw Melanie, one hand out, glaring at the statement in his hand. Her eyes flicked up to his face, and she looked… well, she looked a little like Jon when he was set on a plan, which Martin was _not_ going to worry about, nope, definitely not.

“Okay, no. Give me that.”

“I- wait, what?” Martin pulled the statement closer to himself, then wondered why he did. Hadn’t he been daydreaming about this since he started reading statements, that someone would come and take them away? Or tell him he didn’t have to do it all himself, they’d share the load with him?

Melanie’s hand dropped to her side, and she sighed in exasperation.

“You asked me to help, so I’m helping. You look almost as bad as-” Melanie stopped short, and looked away. “Anyway. I… I want to help. I mean it. You can’t be you _and_ Jon, that’s not fair.”

Martin looked down at the tape recorder, then back up at Melanie. “Are you sure? I didn’t want to ask, you had that thing tomorrow, and-”

“So I’ll set an alarm. Or five alarms.” Melanie rolled her eyes, but her face softened. “Or if I really don’t feel up to it, I’ll stay home. But that’s my decision to make, not yours.”

“But-”

Melanie shifted her weight to her other leg, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Listen, just… just give me the statement and go lie down, or something. You’re making yourself sick.”

Martin stared at her. She really meant it.

Melanie slowly put a hand out, palm-up and waiting, and stared back at him. “Come on. You can’t tell me you want to read,” she craned her neck, trying to see the statement upside-down. “… whatever that is. And it’s not like we can get fired.”

Martin blinked a few times – he was _not_ going to cry in front of Melanie, no matter how relieved he was that he didn't have to read another one – smiled tentatively, and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I... I think I will. Thanks.”

Melanie smiled uncomfortably, took the statement and tape recorder, and walked back to her desk, spinning the chair a little as she sat down. “Go take a break, I’ll get you when I’m done.”

As Martin left the room to see if Tim had already taken the cot in document storage, he could hear a tape recorder whirring behind him.

“Right, here goes. Statement of…”


End file.
